


Soul Survivor

by RipUpTheEnding



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate season 11, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Come Eating, Dean nerds out about a castle, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, Grace Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Possession, SPN Case Fic Mini-Bang, Sharing a Bed, brief mention past Sam/Ruby, unknown creature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6989527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipUpTheEnding/pseuds/RipUpTheEnding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
<img/>
</p>
<p>All Dean wanted to do was see a damn castle, maybe gank something, and then stuff his face with pie.</p>
<p>Playing boyfriend to an Angel of the Lord was not part of the plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoversAntiquities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/gifts), [museaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/gifts), [WickedNerdAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedNerdAngel/gifts), [nhpw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/gifts), [M](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=M).



> Written for the [SPN CaseFic Mini Bang](http://spncasefic.tumblr.com/) challenge.
> 
> Thank you [Horrorfemme](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/) and [Nonexistenz](http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful art!  
> [Art Link 1](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/post/145059071711/art-for-the-spn-case-fic-soul-survivor-i-got) | [Art Link 2](http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/post/145060035627/part-of-the-spn-case-fic-mini-bang-2016-title)

"But dude… a castle!"

"Oh, really, Dean? _A castle?_ I didn't realize!" Sam says from his seat in the Bunker's library. He barely looks up from the table, more interested in his latest cataloging project than Dean's new obsession with Boldt Castle. "It's not like you said it fifty times or anything…"

"Come on, man. What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. I just don't think there's enough there for a case."

"How is this _not_ a case?" Dean asks, completely undeterred by Sam's lack of enthusiasm. "This place only opened up a month or two ago and they're already had multiple reports of unexplained crazy."

This time, Sam looks up from his cataloging, raises a brow. "Unexplained crazy?"

"You know what I mean, Sam! People suddenly losing their mind and forgetting who they are. Throwing nutty fits and shit."

"Sometimes people do just go crazy."

"People who've never exhibited any symptoms of mental problems before?" Dean presses.

Sam sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his slightly puffy, bloodshot eyes. "That's generally how it works, Dean. Most people aren't _born_ crazy. I mean," Sam brushes his unkempt hair from his face and Dean makes a mental note to bring out the clippers later on. "Are there even any of the other usual signs? Something that points to possession or a restless spirit, maybe?"

Dean narrows his eyes, the muscle at the hinge of his law twitching.

"Sulfur? Ectoplasm? Cold spots? Weird deaths or murders or random acts of violence?"

Dean doesn't speak, just shakes his head, his jaw getting tighter with each successive question.

"So, all you've got is a few people acting weird and then _not_ acting weird… and no one's even dying or getting hurt? Just really shaken up for a few days?"

"And?"

 Sam narrows his eyes. "And Alexandria Bay, New York isn't exactly next door. That's a long way to go for something so thin."

"We've driven further for less."

Sam sighs again and cradles his head in his hands. " _Dean…_ "

"But _duuuude,_ " Dean starts, now in full on whining mode. "Come on. It's a ca—"

"I swear to God, Dean, if you say Castle one more time…"

A pause. And then Dean, lips twitching, whispers, " _…Castle…_ "

Sam grabs the large dusty box now sitting empty on the table and chucks it at Dean.

"Not cool, man!" Dean glares, having only barely managed to avoid the object flying at his head. "Just because you don't wanna work—"

"That's not… No. That's not it at all"

"Then what's the problem, Sam? You don't usually fight me like this on taking cases."

"Honestly?" Sam asks as he searches Dean for sincerity.

Dean quiets a moment, his eyes searching Sam's as well. When Sam doesn't back down, Dean spreads his hands in invitation. "Hit me, man."

"I'm just tired."

"What?" This is not anything like Dean expected.

"I'm tired. Fucking _exhausted,_ Dean. I mean… you've been dragging us around the country non-stop since we got the mark off your arm. And I thought you'd let up once we got rid of Amara but it's only gotten worse."

Dean frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but Sam holds up his hand and keeps talking.

"And I get it, I really, _really_ do. Back during the apocalypse and everything that happened with—with Ruby… I just couldn't shake it. All the things I did and the people I hurt… and all I wanted to do was to just get as far away from all my mistakes as I possibly could. Try to be a good man again"

"Sam…"

"And I think… I think I've finally gotten there. But you…"

" _Sam,_ " Dean says again, this time a warning.

"You don't need to do that, Because all those things that happened? Those things you did? That was the Mark and the Darkness. That wasn't you, okay? _None_ of that was you. Because you _are_ a good man. Always have been and always will be. So, all this running is… It's pointless and—"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. You're tired. I get it--"

"Dean…"

Dean exhales slowly, avoiding Sam's eyes. "And just for the record, it's not like that, It's just… It's not."

"Then what's it like?"

"I just wanna work, okay? _Saving_ people. The other half of the bumper sticker. We gotta get back to that. You're the one who said it, remember?

"Yeah, I remember."

"I just wanna work," Dean repeats with a sigh before turning on his signature charming smile, dismissing all that feeling crap. "So, wha'd'ya say? Ready to check out a haunted castle?"

"Dean, just because it's a castle doesn't automatically mean there's something supernatural happening there. I'm sorry, but this still doesn't sound like our kinda thing."

"And so what if it's not?"

"Huh?"

"So what if it's not? What if we drive all the way up there and you're right and it's nothing? What then? We spend a few days relaxing… Gettin' waited on by servants and shit… I mean, when was the last time we took a vacation?"

"Seriously? I thought you wanted to work."

"I do! _But Sam."_ Dean stops a moment to point forcefully at his brother. "Don’t even try to tell me that you're not even a little bit interested. That big nerd brain of yours isn't dying to explore a castle?"

"First of all: _I'm_ the nerd?"

"Shuddup."

"And second of all: do you even realize what kind of resort they opened up inside this castle?"

"Look. All I know is that they got a pastry chef who makes twenty flavors of pie and all the maids are in costumes."

"Those aren't costumes, Dean. They're uniforms and—"

"And what? Castle. Pie. Pretty women." Dean counts each item off on his fingers. "What else do I need to know?"

"It's a couples resort."

"So?"

"As in only couples stay there…"

"So?" Dean asks again.

"Unless you're okay with playing house with me, then we gotta get Cas involved, so—"

"So you cozy up with the angel for a few days. I'll come hang out during the day. What's the big deal?"

"Ohhhh, no, Dean. That's not happening."

Dean's lips twitch as he fights a smile. "Oh come on. You afraid you might like it or something?"

"No,I mean this is _your_ case. You wanna go to a castle so bad, you get to do the heavy lifting. _You_ get to play boyfriend."

Dean's mouth is suddenly dry and gritty like he's got a mouthful of sand. It hurts to swallow. "No. _No way!_ " He points and shakes his head. " _Not_ happening!"

Sam mimics Dean with with a cocky smile of his own. He laces his fingers together behind his head and leans back in his chair. "What's the matter? Afraid you might like it?"

"What? No! No, 'course not! That's not—that's—"

"Is something wrong, Dean? You look ill…"

" _Jesus Christ,_ Cas!" Dean yells, nearly falling flat on his ass when he turns to find Cas behind him, having entered the room at some unknown point during the conversation. "We gotta get you a bell."

Cas ignores the remark, walking right up into Dean's personal space and narrowing his eyes, giving Dean a thorough once over. Dean shivers under the intensity of his gaze. "You didn't drink that milk in the back of the fridge did you?"

"No! God, Cas," he says, forcing himself to take a step backwards. "Personal fucking space."

"Do you need me to take your temperature?" Cas asks, holding up his pointer finger. Dean's eyes bulge and Sam laughs so hard he chokes.

"He's right, Dean. You do look a little pale. What do you say?"

"Fuck you, Sammy!"

"It's Sam!"

"Dean?" Cas asks, still holding up his finger and once again advancing in Dean's direction.

"No! _No, I do not need my temperature taken!_ Fuck!"

Cas frowns. "But—"

"We got a case. That's all."

"I don't understand. Why would a case make you sick?"

"He's gotta pretend to like you, Cas."

Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Sam. "But Dean does like me."

Once again, Sam breaks into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "That he does."

"Shut up!" Dean snaps before looking back at Cas, doing his best to keep a neutral expression and hide his rapidly spreading blush. "He means we gotta play a couple, Cas. The case is at a couples resort."

"I see," Cas says, low, and for just a second Dean thinks he sees something flash in those blue depths of Cas's eyes, something akin to excitement and dread all at once. But it's gone the next time Cas blinks. Maybe it was never there at all.

"That, okay with you?" Dean asks, unconsciously reaching out to palm Cas's bicep.

Cas nods, once, as if he's steeling himself for battle, and the thought makes Dean's chest clench. "Yes. That is acceptable."

"What about you, Dean?" Sam calls from behind them. "You okay with that?"

_No._

"'Course," Dean says, flashing his biggest toothy grin. "Why not? What's the worst that can happen?"

**~~~**

The drive to Alexandria Bay, New York takes three days longer than it should, as Dean is struck with the inexplicable urge to stop at all of his favorite diners and tourist traps along the way. At first Sam plays along, laughing and rolling his eyes each time Dean forces them to stop for "the best burger he's ever had" or "pie that's better than sex," but two days and a whole bottle of antacids later, he's had enough. His eye rolling is replaced with increasing levels of bitch face, and his laughter becomes frustrated mumbles under his breathe.

"I'm not stalling, Sammy! This case was my fucking idea!" Dean finally snaps, fingers tightening around the wheel.

"Whatever you say man," Sam mumbles before turning with a frustrated huff to stare out the window.

Cas for his part, remains mostly silent, but Dean can't help but notice his frowns in the rear view mirror.

"Dean," Cas finally says, about fifteen minutes before sunrise and thirty miles outside of Alexandria Bay.

Dean gives a quick sideways glance in Sam's direction and finds him dozing against the door, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head and his cheek smashed against the window. "Yeah, Cas?" he whispers.

"We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable."

"What?" Dean answers immediately, a slight break in his voice, even though he knows exactly what Cas means.

"This." He gestures between the two of them. "Pretending to be a couple. I’m sure that we can find another way if this does turn out to be a case."

"Cas…"

"Dean, it's alright. I would never force you to do anything you don't want to and I can tell that this makes you," Cas pauses, swallowing thickly, "uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Dean says a little too quickly, and he's not even fooling himself. Cas frowns at him in the mirror and Dean sighs. "Look man, it's just… I'm just tired and I've got a killer stomach ache and I'm…" He shakes his head, chuckling wearily. "I'm not good at this, man."

"Good at what?"

"Relationships."

"That's not true."

Dean laughs loud enough that Sam stirs in the seat next to him. "Yeah. Okay."

"Dean…"

"Have you met me? I'm batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs."

"That's not true," Cas repeats, his voice soft. "What about Sam?"

Dean laughs again. "Like I said, have you met me? What Sam and I got ain't exactly healthy or functional."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone! Says… says me, man! You honestly gonna tell me you think what we got going is a standard to aspire to?"

Cas looks down, the frown on his face smoothing into an almost fond smile. "I suppose not. But if it works for you two, does that make it any less successful?"

"Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll give you that one. But that's… That's not what I mean. Sam is my brother—my _family_ —so it's different. I'm talking about _relationship_ relationships. You know…" Dean's mouth twists into a wry smile, nose wrinkled in displeasure. "…Of the _romantic_ persuasion."

"I know, Dean. And while you're correct that your track record with those is far less than stellar—"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence! Damn, I thought this was supposed to be a pep talk!"

"—while your track record with those is far less than stellar," Cas repeats,then continues with, "if there's anyone who can rise to the challenge, it's you."

Dean looks at the mirror to find Cas fondly smiling at him. His cheeks heat up and he quickly looks away. "Well, thanks. I guess."

"Though that's not actually what I meant."

Dean exhales loudly, fingers white-knuckling the wheel. _Here it comes…_

"I was speaking of my vessel."

"What, uh, what about your vessel?"

"It's male."

"Uh. Yeah, I noticed." _I really fucking noticed._ And thank _fuck_ he doesn't say that out loud.

"So, I'd understand if you're uncomfortable feigning an attraction to me."

"Yeah, that's not gonna be a problem," Dean says before he can stop himself. His teeth clack when he snaps his mouth shut. "Uhhh…"

Cas stares wide-eyed from the back seat, and Dean definitely doesn't watch his Adam's apple bob when Cas slowly swallows.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. "What I mean is, you're right, man. I'll… I'll figure it out. I always do."

"Of course, Dean."

"And hey," Dean adds, flashing Cas an overly confident and cocky grin. "We just gotta fool everyone at the resort. It's not like I gotta woo you or romance you or any of that shit. I mean," Dean chuckles, but it comes out sounding more nervous than he'd like. "It's not like we're _actually_ in a relationship or anything!"

"Oh, heaven forbid," Cas mumbles.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Dean." Cas sighs. "I believe our exit is approaching."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Dean flips on his blinker, but he waits until the last second the change lanes, laughing hysterically when Sam flails awake and nearly falls off the seat.

_"What the hell, Dean?"_

"Rise and shine, Sammy! We got work to do."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean is regretting his life choices before they even make it off the ferry. _Of course,_ Boldt Castle is on an island; _of course,_ the water is extra choppy today; and _of course,_ Dean discovers he likes ferries just about as much as he likes airplanes. Probably more in fact, because not even airplanes have the power to make Dean wish he'd skipped that slice of pie during breakfast.

Just the thought of that warm apple goodness forces bile into his mouth. And Goddamn it! If he can't eat apple pie again after this he's killing whatever monster is at this castle twice out of spite.

"Dean, you're looking pale again."

"Just a little seasick, Cas. I'll be alright."

"Are you sure? Because I could—"

"If you wanna keep that finger, you better put it away."

Cas rolls his eyes (a habit he learned from Sam that Dean insists is _not_ adorable… _definitely_ not adorable) but he puts his hands in his trench coat pockets anyway and backs away.

"And welcome to Heart Island, everyone!" The voice that comes over the ferry's intercom system as they arrive at the dock is syrupy sweet. Dean's already churning stomach lurches "Home of the legendary Boldt Castle!"

Dean groans. "Heart Island? _Really?_ You gotta be fucking _kidding_ me." The wake from a passing boat hits the dock and for just a moment Dean considers throwing himself into the bay to save himself… from himself.

His feelings for Cas are confusing enough already without throwing in a pretend relationship at a romantic couples resort on a fucking island with a cliche name. All Dean wanted to do was see a damn castle, maybe gank something, and then stuff his face with pie and flirt with the maids. But oh no. Of course it wouldn't work out that way because fucking Sam had to go and be all brainy and practical and remind Dean that if there _is_ in fact a case at Boldt Castle, then someone needs to stick around to protect the civilians. Sticking around means checking into the resort and checking into the resort means being part of a couple. And since it was all Dean's idea… _Fucking Sam!_

Dean shakes his head, frustrated, but that motion is the final straw for his stomach, and he barely makes it off the ferry and to the edge of the dock before he's spewing his breakfast into the bay. "I tell you," Dean says after a few minutes of heaving, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "The only acceptable form of transportation is the good 'ol sturdy car. Anything else is just plain un-American."

"Dean—"

"Just leave it, Cas." Dean hoists his bag over his shoulder and does _not_ stomp away.

Dean's just about decided to sulk for the entirety of the trip when they come to a bend in the path and he's reminded why he wanted to check out this case in the first place.

 _"Hooooly shit!"_ Dean whistles, coming to a complete stop in his tracks. Even at this distance, he practically has to bend over backward to see the top of Boldt Castle. "Would you look at that?"

"Yes, Dean. It is impressive," Cas observes, coming to a standstill next to Dean. "For a castle in the Americas, that is. The ones I've seen in—"

" _Ohhh, look at me! I'm the Angel, Castiel. I've seen castles before!_ " Dean turns and jabs a finger at Cas's chest. "Well, you know what man? I've never even seen Cinderella's Castle at Disney World. Let me have my moment, okay?"

"Of course, Dean," Cas says. The corner of his mouth twitches and Dean can't help but smile too.

"Okay, changed my mind. I wanna see inside. Come on, man!" Dean yells over his shoulder as he takes off toward the main entrance.

"Looks like the fucking Titanic," Dean muses when they finally make their way inside the main lobby. The room is decorated in the early 20th century style: plush red velvet couches, intricately carved tables topped with marble, paintings of landscapes in frames every bit as elaborate as the furniture, an ornate plaster ceiling, and in the very center of it all is a grand wooden staircase. "I am _way_ under dressed…"

"We should probably get checked in and call Sam. He'll be expecting us by now."

And just like that, just as quickly as Dean's mood turned around when he saw the castle, he's right back to square one at the mention of checking in. At a couple's resort. To the room he'll be sharing with Cas.

His best friend. His—Dean gulps— _boyfriend,_ at least as far as everyone here is concerned. Just the thought of it makes him shiver violently like a bolt of lightning that shoots straight through him from the top of his head all the way down his toes. Grounds him to the earth and the moment and—

"Are you, okay, Dean?"

Dean jumps when Cas touches his shoulder, another electric shock that, this time, Cas feels too. Dean gasps, his eyes darting in Cas's direction, catching with the Angel's ice blue gaze like a magnet. And for a moment they stay just like that, eyes and bodies locked, energy pulsing between them with such power that Dean swears they must be glowing like a fucking beacon, turning all eyes in the room in their direction. It's a fight, but somehow Dean manages to detach his eyes from Cas, survey the rest of the lobby.

No one is looking at them, of course no one is looking at them, because of course they aren't fucking glowing and the only thing that's happening here is that a lifetime of hunting has turned Dean into a cynical, paranoid bastard.

Dean chokes on his relieved sigh, that is until he catches sight of the man behind the check-in counter.

He has to be at least a head shorter than Dean but he makes up for it with the way he carries himself. He stands tall, salt and pepper hair parted on the side and slicked down. His lithe body radiates a sort of regal presence, a powerful one, but not the sort of power that corrupts. No. This power is a more dangerous kind. The kind that draws people in, bends their will. The kind that knows all. Sees all. And this man's steely gray eyes have Dean and Cas locked in his sights.

"Dean?" Cas asks again and Dean startles, jerks his arm out of Cas's hold. Something snaps between them and the connection breaks. Cas gasps and the man at the counter… Well, _shit_. Maybe Dean's being paranoid again but he swears the man knows exactly what just happened, that he feels it too.

He frowns at the two of them and then looks at the counter, his frown deepening.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Cas," Dean answers at last, shaking himself in an attempt to clear his head. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Dean pats Cas on the shoulder and flashes him a confident grin as he takes the last few steps to the check-in desk. He's about to try out his smile on the man when he notices the small pot and very dead flower displayed prominently on the the counter.

"Well, this looks promising already," Dean mumbles, his fingers reaching up to brush the dead, dried petals of the potted flower.

"Oh, my! I do apologize," the man gasps when he notices what Dean is looking at. But even his gasp, Dean realizes with annoyance, is just as put together and purposeful as the man himself. "The regular desk girl must have forgotten to water it."

"Ever?" Dean mumbles again.

The man's eyes narrow. "Let me just take care of that," he says picking up the pot and moving it behind the counter. His graceful fingers run up the stem and cup the brittle bud, an almost reverent gesture, as if this dead flower is worth it's weight in gold. As if it's loss is as monumental as that of a person.

"Oh? You don't normally work the desk?" Cas asks, breaking Dean from his trance.

The man, _Charles_ his name tag reads, smiles but it doesn't quite reach his somewhat weary eyes. "Oh, no, no. I'm actually the manager of this resort so I work everywhere. Fill in when and where I'm needed. Our regular desk girl, Amanda, married recently and was on her honeymoon." Charles winces at that and Dean raises an eyebrow.

" _Was?_ "

"Ahh, yes. She is no longer honeymooning."

"She not coming back to work?"

"She is. Eventually. She had a bit of a… scare."

"Was she honeymooning here?" Cas asks without preamble. "At the resort, by any chance?"

Charles narrows his eyes and gives Cas a run for his money is the glaring department. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"And what sort of scare?" Cas continues, undeterred. "Was she acting unusual?"

"Cas."

"Like a different person?"

"Cas…"

"Crazy? Was she—"

" _Cas!_ " Dean snaps, grabbing Cas's arm and yanking him close enough to whisper in his ear. "We talked about this. _Fuck!_ Slow down, man!"

Dean lets go of Cas and this time he does use his award winning grin on Charles. It doesn't do a damn thing. Dean frowns.

"What is the purpose of this interrogation?" Charles asks, voice low and calculating.

 _Now or never,_ Dean thinks. And with a deep breathe he throws his arm over Cas's shoulder and pulls him in. Kisses the top of his head. "You'll have to forgive my boyfriend. See, he's kind of a supernatural freak and when he heard there might be something weird happening in a castle, he just couldn't get here fast enough!"

"Yes, Dean. _I_ couldn't wait to get here."

"Adorable, ain't he?"

Charles doesn't say a word, just continues to stare.

"So, uh, so you see, Charles," Dean says, lowering his voice conspiratorially and leaning in, away from Cas. "If you could just give him something, anything really, it would make his day… And mine, if you know what I mean," Dean adds with a wiggle of his eyebrows. _And what the fuck is he saying?_ Charles's eyes widen, just slightly and Dean blushes, prepared to get chewed out by this obviously way uptight man, but that doesn't happen. To Dean's utter surprise the man's eyes soften and he smiles, _fucking smiles!_

Looking to Cas, still grining, Charles whispers, "Yes. She was honeymooning here. It was my wedding present to her." He frowns a little at that, his eyes going a bit glassy, but he doesn't lose his temporary softness. "Checking in?"

"Uhh… yeah. Yeah," Dean says, stunned by the sudden change of conversation. "Reservation's under Smith. Dean Smith."

Charles nods and looks to his computer screen, confirms Dean's information and hands him two key cards in a crisp envelope.

"You'll be in room 307. I've sent for someone to help with your bags."

"Thanks man, but," Dean shrugs and pats the strap of his duffel, "that won't be necessary. We travel light."

"To help you find your room then. The resort is rather large. Wouldn't want you to get lost. Or…" Charles trails off. Clearing his throat, he gestures behind them. "Ah. Here she is now. Please, enjoy your stay, and if there's anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

"We won't." Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes, resuming his intense stare down of the manager. Charles swallows under the scrutiny, and for a very brief moment Dean gets the feeling that the man is afraid. But it passes in the blink of an eye and Dean is left off balanced, unsettled even. Drained.

"Uhh, come on, Cas," Dean says, breaking the silence and gesturing his head behind them. "Let's go find our room. I'm tired as hell all of a sudden and we still gotta check in with Sam."

Cas turns, eyes still narrowed but this time in thought, and joins Dean. Unexpectedly Charles grasps both of their wrists and holds them in place. He stares at them until they both return his gaze and hold it. Even Cas seems to be drawn in just enough to hold still and listen. "Perhaps—perhaps it is not the best idea for the two of you to be here."

" _What?_ " Dean asks, eyebrows raised.

"I—Never mind. It's nothing. I promise you that I—" He swallows, the uncertainty and fear flashing in his eyes again. "I have it under control."

Charles nods again and releasing their wrists, he turns and walks away quickly, his initial grace and power restored.

"Dean," Cas says after a moment of silence. "Charles is… unusual."

Dean snorts. "You can say that again. What was with that warning? And did you see the way he touched that plant?"

"Yes. Do you think he might be our monster?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugs, scratching his stubble thoughtfully. "I mean he's definitely weird. Kinda gave me the hebbie jebbies… But last time I checked, being weird doesn’tmake you a monster. 'Sides, I didn't get that… _evil_ vibe off him, you know? Why? Did you?"

"No. No, 'evil vibe,'" Cas says, pausing to use air quotes. "But there was something about him that… I don't know how to explain it, Dean. Something unusual that I just can't place…"

Dean sighs. "You felt that too?"

"Yes. There was some sort of power radiating from him, though I don't think it was his own."

"What, like he tapped into it somehow?"

"Perhaps."

" _Fuuucccck,_ " Dean groans and then mutters. " _Of course_ this would fucking happen…"

"What would happen?"

"You don't think he's a witch do you? Or a warlock or whatever?" Dean groans again and this time it turns into a whine. " _Maaan,_ I fucking _hate_ witches…"

"No, I don’t think he is a witch, or a warlock, Dean."

"Then what? What else taps into power like that?"

"There are any number of things." Cas muses with a frown. "Though with Charles, I could feel a… shifting…"

Dean raises a brow. "A shifting?"

"Yes. Around my vessel. Within it. At first it was barely noticeable but then… Then something changed and—"

Dean throws his head back and laughs. "He made your vessel shift? Really? What… is that like…" Dean lowers his voice and leans in conspiratorially. "Is that a kinky thing?"

Cas turns to face Dean, eyes full of silent fury. Dean swallow thickly and Cas leans in closer. "No, Dean. That was not a kinky thing. However—"

"Hi, guys. I'm Cecile. Welcome, to Boldt Castle!"

Dean jumps back so quickly he crashes against the check-in counter. Brochures and business cards go flying and pens clatter off the counter onto the desk behind it. Dean scrambles to stop the chain reaction, only just managing to stop a brochure rack from tipping over and crushing the potted plant behind the counter… The very vibrant, very _alive_ potted plant.

_"What the fuck?"_ Dean hisses under his breathe, reaching his shaking hand towards the bright blue petals.

"Dean? Are you coming?" Cas asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean yelps and turns to Cas, eyes wide and confused. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"That plant, Cas. _That's_ what's wrong."

"What about the plant?" Cecile asks.

_"It's alive!"_

"Ummm…" Cecile frowns. "And that's a problem because…"

"Because a minute ago it was dead! 'Dead as a fucking doornail' dead. Tell her, Cas!"

After a glance over the counter at the very alive plant, Cas nods. "It was dead."

"Ahh, man! Cas, I told ya. Goddamn—"

Cecile laughs. "Well, I'm sure it was!"

"What?" Cas and Dean ask together.

Cecile lowers her voice to a mock whisper. "Yeah. We kind of have a problem with that around here."

"A problem?"

"Oh, yes. Mr. Charles loves his plants but he just can't seem to keep them alive! I swear he's got a whole secret greenhouse around here somewhere 'cause no sooner does someone find a poor dead one when when poof! There's a brand new live one in it's place. Almost like magic…"

"Yeah, almost…" Dean snorts. "Well, anyway. You here to show us to our room? Because I am beat all of a sudden."

"Of course! Follow me!" Cecile says, leading them towards the grand staircase.

They're halfway up the third flight of stairs, Dean refusing to acknowledge that yes, they should have taken the elevator because he is just not as young as he used to be, when Cas asks, "Has anything unusual happened around here lately?"

Cecile pauses in her steps and grips on tight to the railing, knuckles turning a milky-white. "Such as?" she asks, barely looking over her shoulder.

"Well, besides the unexplained and unusual actions of several recent guests."

Cecile tightens her grip.

"Weird sounds? Smells? Cold spots perhaps?"

"Oh," Cecile says as she turns around to face them. Her body relaxes and her bright smile is back. "Ghost enthusiasts, are you?"

"No, no." Dean jumps in quickly, glaring at Cas. "None of that!"

"Oh," Cecile waves her hand and rolls her eyes. "Don't worry. We get our share of those every once and a while. Some of the staff get a little skittish about it but not me. I'm used to it by now."

"Ghost enthusiasts? You get a lot of those around here?"

"Oh yeah. All the time. At least one or two a week since we opened." She says, her eyes going all soft and dreamy. "I find the whole thing kind of romantic, actually."

" _Romantic?_ "

"Well… yeah. Because of George Boldt."

Dean raises an eyebrow, signaling her to continue.

"The guy who built this place. You really don't know, do you?"

Both Dean and Cas shake their heads.

"So?" Dean prompts.

Cecile bites her lip and looks down. "Well, I'm not really supposed to say."

"Why not?"

"Charles doesn't like us spreading rumors."

"Well, I won't tell if you won't…" Dean winks.

A bright toothy smile spread across Cecile's face. "Fine. You convinced me."

"That's my girl!"

"So. Picture this: Early 1900s, George C. Boldt, millionaire hotelier is head over heels in love with his wife, Louise. As a symbol of his undying love for her, he begins construction of a Rhineland style castle. _This_ castle…"

"He built his wife a castle," Cas deadpans.

"That he did."

Dean whistles. "And what did his wife think of that?"

"I'm afraid we'll never know. Sadly, she died before it was complete. And in his despair, George abandoned the project and the castle sat empty for nearly 75 years. But then someone bought it and fixed it up and here we are!"

"And so… what?" Dean ventures. "People think George's wife is haunting the place?"

"Oh, no."

"What?"

"It's George."

"George."

"Yes, because this place was a monument to his wife and their love and he just couldn't let go, not even in death…" Cecile winks. "Or so people say."

"Fantastic," Dean mumbles under his breath, barely loud enough to be heard. Cas tilts his head and gives him a curious look but doesn't say anything.

"And here we are!" Cecile smiles brightly a few moments later, stopping in front of room 307. "Need help inside?"

Dean gulps down the lump in his throat and shakes his head. "Uh… uh no. We got it from here. Thanks, Cecile."

She nods and turns to leave. After a few steps she looks over her shoulder and flashes another winning smile. "And if you have anymore questions about," she pauses, eyes darting side to side, scanning the hallway. "Ghosts," she mock whispers, "don't hesitate to ask."

Dean nods, wordlessly, before following Cas into the room on unsteady legs. When the door clicks shut behind them Dean jumps, because here they are. Him and Cas. Sharing a room like a couple. Sharing a room with _one bed_ like a couple. At least the bed is king sized so there's no chance of them touching during the night or fucking spooning or waking up in the morning, legs tangled together as they hold each other, their cocks hard and leaking and—

And Cas doesn't sleep. Dean lets out a shaky exhale on the tail end of a laugh, because of course. Cas doesn't sleep so there's definitely no chance of any of those things Dean is fantasizing about— _worried about,_ he corrects himself—actually happening. No chance at all. Dean's stomach twists with the revelation and if he's being honest with himself ( _he's not,_ but if he _was_ ) then he's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

Relieved. Definitely relieved.

"Is something wrong?" Cas asks, a gentle hand coming to rest on Dean's bicep where it once held Cas's mark. Dean's jumps again.

"Nah, man. I'm fine." Dean shrugs Cas's hand from his shoulder and pretends he doesn't see the flash of hurt in his best friend's eyes. Instead he drops his bag on the floor and collapses onto the massive bed with a groan. "Just fucking exhausted all of a sudden. Screw consciousness, man." Dean yawns as he sinks down into the bed and then groans appreciatively. "Not memory foam but this will definitely do."

"We told Sam we'd call him once we checked in," Cas says, clearing his throat, and there's just something about his voice that Dean can't place right now. Something tight, almost uncertain and afraid, but Dean is already drifting off.

"Screw consciousness," he murmurs again just as bone deep exhaustion pulls him under.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sleeps for all of three seconds, or so he assumes. The beep as the lock disengages, the whoosh of the door sliding against the carpet, the click as it's pushed closed, immediately pulls Dean from sleep. One of the perks, and disadvantages of being a hunter, he's up at the slightest sound. But Dean can barely open his eyes. The lids are like hundred pound weights and it's all he can do to wipe away the sleep and peer at the intruder through slit eyes. "What the fuck, Cas? You know I gotta get my four hours!"

Cas tilts his head and frowns, and it must be the light because for a second Dean swears that Cas has dark circles around his eyes. "It's been six hours, Dean."

Every moment feels like he's trudging through quicksand, but somehow Dean manages to shoot upright in bed. His head spins and he slumps back, catching himself on bent elbows. " _Six hours?_ No fucking way. It's been like… like two minutes. Negative two minutes. _Fuck_ , I'm tired…"

Cas frowns again, then opens his mouth, closes it and opens it again. Shakes his head and sighs. If Dean didn't feel like he'd just been run over by a semi, he'd press Cas because it's obvious the guy wants to say something, but it's taking all his energy just to keep himself upright. Cas will tell him if it's important. Right now Dean just needs to wake the fuck up.

His arms give out and he falls back prone on the bed, grunting. "A little help here, Cas?"

Cas nods, palming Dean's cheek, and he shivers as a burst of grace shoots through his body, like mint, cool in the mouth. Sighing, Dean relaxes into the feel of it all, the weight of Cas's palm on his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone, his body coming alive with new energy. It's heaven and it's gone all too quickly, but then what did Dean expect? That's generally what happens to good things in his life.

"Thanks, man." Dean stretches and pushes himself back up to a sitting position. He doesn't do it often—Cas always prefers for Dean to get his energy the good old fashioned way: taking care of himself. Damn hippie just like Sam. But occasionally, when they have no other choice, Cas will help him cheat nature a bit; ease a hangover, soothe arthritis, get rid of fatigue. It usually works wonders but not so much this time. He's definitely more awake than he was but the fatigue is still there, hovering right on the peripheral of his consciousnesses. Damn, he must have been more tired than he thought. Perhaps Cas is onto something with this whole… 'taking care of himself' thing.

"We need to talk," Cas says without preamble as he sits down on the bed just a little bit too close to Dean.

"Uh… okay."

"While you were sleeping, I tracked down Amanda and interviewed her."

Dean stills. "Alone?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Why didn't you take Sam with you?"

"I called him to let him know we arrived, but he went to the library to do some research."

 " _Fuck,_ Cas! You should've—you should've made Sam go with you. Or woken me up. Fuck!"

Cas turns his entire body toward Dean, a movement so graceful and purposeful that Dean might call it beautiful if he didn't know the fearsome power behind that gaze. And he shivers because fuck it: it _is_ beautiful, _Cas_ is beautiful, and that fearsome power only enhances it all. Dean's throat clicks when he swallows. He's not sure what to do with this new revelation.

"In case you've forgotten, I am an Angel of the Lord. I'm several millennia older than you, Dean. I do not need a babysitter."

Dean snorts, tries to feign indifference to the intensity of those ice blue eyes. "Yeah. Tell that to Charles at the desk."

"Oh. Yes." Cas says, lost in thought for just a moment. "That worked out better than I hoped."

" _…What?_ "

"When we first saw him and I felt his power, I wasn't sure it would work on him, but he was rather flustered, wasn't he?"

Dean's mouth gapes. "You _meant_ to do that?

“I was playing bad cop.” Cas hums thoughtfully, his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Well, more like crazy cop," Dean laughs and gives Cas a few congratulatory slaps on his thigh. "But it definitely worked. You sure as hell had _me_ convinced! Just do me a favor and don't surprise me like that next time."

"I thought your reaction would be more genuine this way."

"Cas—"

"Tell me I'm wrong." This time when Cas narrows his eyes. They are heavy and dark. "And next time, we'll do it your way."

Dean gulps.

"Hmm. That's what I thought," Cas says lowly, looking down at where Dean's hand is still firmly planted on his thigh.

Dean gulps again and instead of removing his hand like he should—because he so, _so_ should—his fingers tighten, almost on instinct. His nails dig in and Cas gasps and Dean makes a noise that absolutely cannot be described as anything other than a whimper. And then Cas's hand is right there on top of his, heavy and warm, fingers slotting between his own. Squeezing. Holding.

"Cas…" Dean's voice shakes. He shudders out an exhale. "Cas, I—"

A bloodcurdling shriek cuts through the tension, snaps it like a rubber band. Dean's head whirls at the sudden shift but he's on his feet and out the door in an instant, Cas at his heels. The next door down flies open and slams against the wall, rattling several paintings and knocking at least one to the floor. The frame cracks and glass shatters as another scream echoes through the air. Two people, a man and a woman, stumble out of the room. The man falls to his knees and claws at his head, pulls out clumps of hair and scratches his face until he draws blood, mumbles incoherently.

"Aaron. _Aaron!_ " The woman falls to the ground next to him. She grabs his wrists and tries, in vain, to stop his self mutilation. "Aaron! Stop! What's wrong? Help! Someone— _someone help!_ "

A look passes between them and Dean and Cas jump into action, one on either side of the man. They each take an arm and wrestle the man to the ground, flat on his chest, his arms pinned behind his back. He continues to struggle and scream and now that he can't claw at his face with his nails, his rubs it against the carpet furiously. His skin tears and burns and the woman grabs his head, this time able to hold him in place. After several more minutes of struggling his body goes lax with exhaustion, but he continues to mumble.

"I have to—I must—No! Get out—But I love him… I need—No! I can't—Stop! It hurts—"

The woman is sobbing now, her hands cradling her lover's head, her head resting against his. The hallway is strangely quiet as the paramedics arrive and sedate the man. As they load him onto a gurney, Dean shivers. The air is buzzing and snapping and his ears ring, and he's pulled back to the moment earlier that morning when they first arrived at the hotel. The way the energy seemed to shift around them and through them. The sudden fatigue and the unusual power radiating off of Charles. Dean's eyes snap up and immediately find Charles where he stands at the end of the hall, on hand against the wall as if he needs the support to keep from falling over.

From the corner of his eye he sees Cas frown and tilt his head, his eyes narrowing and the dark circles Dean thought he imagined only minutes earlier are now all too real. Cas nods toward Charles who is making a speedy, yet awkward retreat down the hall, and Dean is torn. He should probably follow Charles and ask him what the hell is happening. It's painfully clear now that he's hiding something but apparently Cas is hiding something too, and Dean can't figure out where to start. Confront his best friend or someone involved with the case. In the end, the decision is made for him.

"We heard the stories but we never thought it was actually…" The woman shakes her head and sighs. "Rachael." She points to herself and then to the man next to her. "My husband, Max."

Dean stands up and without thinking, takes Cas's hand and pulls him to his feet as well. When he doesn't let go, Cas twines their fingers together just as he did earlier. It's… different, but at the same time almost natural the way they fit together. Dean's never thought about it before this moment but the truth is that they've always been this way, moving around each other and with each other, anticipating the other's thoughts and feelings and needs, two cogs working in sync to create something beautiful and new.

Dean tugs Cas against his side and drops a kiss on the crown of his head, smiling when Cas's soft hair tickles his nose and lips.

"Dean. And my boyfriend, Castiel," he says, a hot flush rising up his chest and neck, coloring his face. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Uhh. Cas."

"Nice to meet you guys," Max says as he wraps his arm around his wife's lower back protectively and the four of them shake hands.

"So," Rachael says after a moment of tense silence, "Special occasion?" She gestures to Dean and Cas.

Dean shakes his head. "Nah. Not really. Cas is a bit of a supernatural enthusiast." Dean clears his throat, swears he can feel Cas shooting lasers through the side of his head. "When we heard the stories, I just couldn't keep him away. You?"

"Five year anniversary." Max kisses his wife's cheek.

Dean finds himself smiling. "That's awesome, guys."

"Thanks." Max returns Dean's smile and then sighs, shaking his head. "And we heard the stories too, but figured it was all just hype to promote the opening. Not really sure what to think now."

"Oh, come on." Rachael rolls her eyes and yawns. "I know this is all a little weird but there has to be some sort of rational explanation. I don't put much stock in all that supernatural stuff—no offense, Cas—so I'm not about to let it ruin our trip." One room down the door flies open. "Now _that_ on the other hand…"

"What are you _doing_ out here, Anna? Stop staring!"

"I'm not staring." Anna rolls her eyes at the shorter woman standing next to her in the doorway.

"Yes. Yes, you are. And now look at that! Everyone's looking at us!" The shorter woman gives an exaggerated wave. "Hi! Hi, everyone! Yes. Drink it up! Have your fill!"

"Becka!" Anna hisses. "Stop it!"

"Why stop now? They're already staring! Hi!" She waves again and Anna grabs her, tries to push her back into the room. "Yeah, there you go. Just have your fill!"

"Oh my god. What is your problem?"

"What's _my_ problem? What's _your_ problem? You're the one out here gawking and causing a scene!"

Anna lets go of Becka and pushes the heels of her hands against her eyes, groaning. "Are fucking you serious right now?"

"As a heart attack!"

"You're unbelievable. No one way staring until you came out here and started yelling!"

"And I wouldn't have _had_ to yell if you weren't out here being all insensitive and—"

With a forceful shove, Anna pushes Becka back into the room and slams the door behind them.

"Uhhh…" Dean turns back to Max and Rachael who are both shaking their heads. "What the hell was that?"

"That," Rachael says with a heavy sigh, "was Anna and Becka."

"They came here to try to save their marriage."

Rachael snorts. "Yeah, well. Hate to break it to 'em but pretty sure that ship's sailed."

Max gives his wife a disapproving look but a smile plays at the corner of his lips.

" _What?_ If they didn't want me to comment on it then maybe they shouldn't fight so loudly." Rachael yawns again, covering her mouth. "Excuse me. I think all the excitement's gotten to me. I'm going to go take a little nap before dinner. Nice to meet you guys."

As Rachael and Max retreat back into their room, Dean and Cas share a wary look.

"So, maybe there actually _is_ a case here…" Dean says with a frustrated frown, almost pouting.

"What do you mean? Sam says this case was your idea—"

"Oh uh, nothing, Cas. Just Sam was convinced there wasn't a case here but it's looking like he was wrong." Dean sighs and runs his hands down his face. "I'm gonna go track down Charles and see if I can get anything else out of him. Why don't you ask around and see if you can find anything out about the new victim."

Cas's lips twitch to hold back a smile. "Oh, so you trust me with that now?"

"I always trust you, Cas." Dean flashes him a toothy grin and when Cas returns it, Dean kisses him, right on the mouth, softly. He pulls back slowly and for a beat they just hover there, barely a space between them, the moment wavering on a precipice as they breathe each other's air. In and out. In and out. Soft. Warm. _Intimate._ Dean gulps.

"Uhhh…" He takes a step back from Cas and thumbs over his shoulder. "I'll… I'll just… uhh… Charles. Victim. Go." And before Cas has a chance to say anything, Dean turns on his heel and practically sprints down the hallway. His heart thumps in his chest and he's dripping sweat. His lips tingle, and when he presses his fingers to the sensitive flesh he shivers.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. What did he do?

"Goddammit!" Dean yells as he exits the hotel only to be stopped in his tracks by what he sees there. "What the fuck?" he mumbles.

Just outside the door is what Dean can only assume was at a one point, a very impressive flowering bush. Now though, it's nothing more than a brown, shriveled mess, almost as if the life was sucked right out of it. "What the fuck?" Dean says again, pulling out his phone and immediately calling Cas.

"Hello. Dean? Is something wrong?"

"Fuck, yes, something is wrong!" Dean yells. A few couples walking hand in hand give him a dirty look. Dean turns away and lowers his voice. "I found a dead bush."

The line is silent.

"Cas?"

"I heard you. Though I'm not sure I understand the significance."

"You don't—Cas!" Dean groans. "It's the only thing dead out here. Everything else around it is all green and flowery and shit! I've seen this before. You know what this means, right?

"What does it mean?"

"Witches, man! I told you. Fuck, I hate witches and—" Dean gasps and nearly drops the phone.

"Dean?"

" _What the actual fuck…_ "

"Dean?" Cas asks again, his voice concerned.

"It's not dead!"

"What's not dead?"

"The bush, Cas! The fucking bush isn't dead!"

"But you just said—"

"I know what I said, Cas. And I'm telling you the bush was dead when I called you… But now it's not!"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. Tentatively, Dean reaches out to touch the leaves which are now more vibrant than the leaves on the surrounding plants. Nope, he's not imagining it. This plant is very much alive. But he could have sworn… Just two minutes ago he could have _sworn…_

"Like the flower at the front desk?"

"Yeah, just like the flower…" Dean exhales as he looks around the area for anything that might tip him off, any clue to what the hell is going on. "Hold on a minute, Cas. I think I got something." Just off in the distance, sitting on a bench with his head cradled in his hands is Charles. "Yeah. Lemme call you back."

Dean shoves his phone in his pocket like it personally offended him and makes his way over to Charles. He slides in next to the man, arm slung casually over the back of the bench, and waits a beat for Charles to notice his presence. After a moment the man clears his throat and sits up. He sucks in a breath when he's finally upright almost as if that small, slow movement was enough to sap all his energy. When he turns his eyes to Dean, black ringed and and heavy lidded, Dean nearly loses his train of thought.

"Yes, Mr. Smith?" he asks, just barely suppressing a yawn.

Dean looks away and lowers his voice, leans in close enough for Charles to hear. "Don't think I don't know what you are."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play the innocent act, man." Dean looks back at Charles and narrows his eyes. "We both know what you are and when I prove it—"

"Excuse me?" Charles says again, eyebrows riding up into his hairline. "What exactly is it that I'm supposed to be?" He furrows his brow, frowning, and his confusion is nearly genuine enough for Dean to back down.

"You know. So, watch yourself, because I'll definitely be watching you." With that, Dean gets up and leaves a started Charles behind. He doesn't turn around but he can feel the man's eyes on him the entire way back into the hotel. Once inside, Dean leans back against the door, exhales slowly, tries to calm his thumping pulse. It was a stupid move to confront Charles, he knows that, but something about the man gets under his skin, makes him temporarily lose his better faculties, what little of them he has to begin with.

None of this makes any sense. What does Charles want with these people anyway? He's not killing them, and from all accounts, the previous victims have made a full recovery almost immediately after leaving the resort. Sure, they're shaken and confused, but other than that they're perfectly healthy. So what's the point? What's Charles's end game? Why fuck with people at a couples resort just to let them go unharmed shortly after?

Dean shakes his head as he pushes away for the door and heads back to his room. There's also the matter of the resurrected plants to deal with, not to mention why the hell he's so fucking tired all of a sudden. He's survived on less sleep than this for pretty much his entire life. Solid four hours. As long as he gets that, that's good… Until now. Sure he's getting older, though Dean's made a pact with himself not to think about that unless absolutely necessary, but Cas said he slept for over six hours the other day and Dean still felt like chewed up garbage when he finally woke up. He might not be as young as he used to be but he sure as hell isn't old! At least not old enough to suddenly need eight hours of sleep just to function.

This whole thing is a fucking mess. Dean should've known better than to think they'd get any sort of break, no matter how small. He's mumbling and cursing under his breath when he shoves open the door to his room and is immediately stopped by the sight of Cas sitting on the bed, elbows rested on his knees. He looks up and Dean swears in that moment that Cas can see right through him, in him. That every one of his thought and feelings and secrets is right there on display like a fucking book. Dean swallows.

"There is something else we should discuss, Dean."

Dean's stomach drops right out of his body. "Uhh… oh?" He turns his back to Cas and goes about getting ready for bed, which in hindsight is a terrible idea because it leaves him even more exposed, but he's still exhausted as fuck and he needs something to distract him right now. Something to occupy his mind and his hands for as long as absolutely possibly while he avoids the inevitable. Because oh yeah. Dean knows exactly what thing Cas is referring to. As if things weren't messed up enough already, Dean had to go and actually kiss Cas. _Why the fuck did he kiss Cas?_ Sure they're playing boyfriends but that doesn't mean they have to get in on all that PDA stuff… which technically wasn't PDA at all, considering they were alone in the hallway when Dean did it, which is just a whole other can of worms and—

"Yes, Dean. We need to talk."

"W—what?" And goddammit. Why does his voice have to shake like that? Dean shucks off his flannel and chucks in at his duffel bag, still refusing to turn around and look at Cas. Maybe if he keeps pretending it didn't happen then Cas will pretend too… Since that's usually how things work out for Dean, especially when it comes to Cas.

Cas sighs. "You know what I am referring to."

"Oh?"

"You kissed me, Dean," Cas says.

Well, so much for that. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath because he knows there's no going back now. Once Cas gets his mind set on something, that's it. He pursues it to the very end no matter how ill fated. Like that time he wanted to set up a cat sanctuary at the Bunker on to discover he has an allergy. Or when he wanted to try every single flavor of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, even suppressing his grace so he could actually taste more than molecules, but forgot to mention the very important fact that Jimmy had been severely lactose intolerant. And… technically these things are completely different but the vague skeleton of a resemblance is the only thing keeping Dean's brain from imploding on itself in this moment.

On a long exhale, Dean turns to face Cas, who is now leveling him with his most impressive smitey glare. It's almost enough to keep Dean from noticing that the circles around Cas's eyes are even darker. Almost.

"You kissed me, Dean," Cas says again.

Dean nods once. Curtly. "I did."

"And?"

"And what, man?" Huffing, Dean trades out his jeans for a pair of soft, well worn sweat pants.

"It was bad."

Dean snorts because _what the hell?_ "Way to boost a guy's confidence there. But fine. I got it. No more kissing."

"That's not what I meant. Perhaps I wasn't clear enough."

"I think you were plenty clear."

"No. What I mean was that it wasn't so much a bad kiss, as it was bad for two people who are supposedly in a long term, committed relationship. It was awkward and…"

"And what?"

"Unpracticed," Cas whispers. And it's really not like Cas to be so soft spoken, almost shy, but Dean can't focus on that when cogs and wheels and pulleys are jumping into action in his brain and making connections. Because Cas can't mean… _No._ Cas can't _possibly_ mean—

"We need to practice," Cas says without waiting for Dean to respond. Because apparently Cas _can_ mean.

Dean sinks down onto the bed next to Cas, their knees and shoulder knocking together. "Uh… yeah. Okay. We can practice." And apparently Dean is really out of it because somehow he managed to miss being possessed since they arrived here. Because Dean wouldn't say this. Dean wouldn't do this. Dean would _never_ agree to kiss Cas no matter what the reason because down that road lays trouble that Dean will never be able to come back from.

Except Dean _isn't_ possessed and Dean _did_ agree to kiss Cas and fuck. That lump is back in his throat and it's his stomach or maybe it's his heart, because holy shit this is happening. _This is really fucking happening._

"I expected more of a fight about this."

"Why?" Dean croaks. And then Cas raises a brow and cups Dean's face, one warm broad palm on each cheek, and then he's kissing Dean, soft and slow, effectively stopping him from ever talking again in his entire life. And that's okay. Dean is good with that. So good with that. Words? Who needs words when they have this? Dean certainly doesn't. Not when Cas is touching him and pulling him closer and holding him. Not when Cas's tongue is licking along the seam of his bottom lip, strong and insistent, seeking entry and getting it without even the tiniest bit of a fight. Not when he has the slip-slide of spit slick swollen lips, or nimble fingers tangling in his hair, or breathe like ozone and honey puffing warm on his flushed cheeks.

Dean mirrors Cas, wraps his arms around his body and slides his hands up his back, knots his fingers in silky black locks and pulls. Hard. Cas groans into the kiss and pushes Dean flat on his back. Without breaking the kiss, Cas straddles him and shoves his tongue back between Dean's lips. In and out, in and out. Harder, faster, fucking Dean's mouth. Tasting it and claiming it. Making Dean his. The thought makes Dean shiver and he bucks his hips, gasping when his hard as hell cock slots right next to Cas's.

"Dean," Cas murmurs, and it's just one word, just his fucking name for god's sake, but in this moment, to Dean, it's everything. It's multitudes.

He cants his hips and pulls Cas down until their bodies are flush, touching from head to toe. Letting go of Dean's hair with one hand, Cas snakes it down Dean's body, his neck and shoulder, the prominent line of his collarbone, the ladder of his ribs, around to his stomach. For a moment Cas just keeps his hand there, strong and firm and warm, grounding Dean. Grounding them both. But then he slides it lower to the hem of Dean's shirt and dips his fingers underneath, traces the line of soft hair there on Dean's belly, down, down, down—

The phone rings. They both jump and knock heads together, hissing at the echo in their skulls. Dean falls off the side of the bed and lands flat on his back, knocking the wind from his chest. He lays there, stunned, as Cas rises from the bed and picks up Dean's cell phone from the end table.

"It's Sam," he says, voice deep and husky.

Dean making a grabbing gesture with his hand and Cas tosses him the phone.

"'Ello," he coughs when he answers. If Sam notices anything unusual about the way Dean sounds he chooses to ignore it.

"So, Dean. I got a question for you."

"Shoot."

Sam pauses for what Dean can only assume is dramatic effect. "Why didn't you tell me about the history of Boldt Castle? I wouldn't have fought you on taking the case!"

"Calm down, Sam. Jesus. Just gimme a second." Dean coughs again before he's finally able to suck in a full breath. Even then he's still panting.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure? 'Cause if I caught you guys at a bad time—"

"Drop it, Sam!"

"Fine," Sam scoffs but he sounds more amused than pissed off which is something Dean will have to examine later when he's not lying prone of a hotel floor, trying to catch his breath from a make-out session with his best friend. "So, _why_ didn't you tell me about the castle's history?"

"Because I didn't know about it until today."

The pause before Sam speaks again is so small that no one but Dean would ever notice. And Yep. Dean is totally in deep shit. "What do you mean you didn't know about it until today?"

"I mean I didn't know about it. Cecile here at the castle told us."

" _Seriously, Dean?_ "

"Stop yelling at me, Sam. What's you're problem?" he asks, even know he very well knows what Sam's problem is.

"My problem is that this was all _your_ idea. _Your_ case and you didn't even bother to look up the basic history and facts? I mean, I didn't know until I did some digging at the library but that's because I figured you'd already looked into this stuff and would have told me if you found something like this. I'm mean it's not like it was difficult to find… There's a fucking Wikipedia page! I found it in the three seconds we've been on the phone! Google. Seriously. Fucking use it!"

" _Mannnn…_ I'm sorry, okay. I just… I just didn't… _"_

"You just didn't _what_?"

Dean inhales slowly. Time for the other shoe to drop. "Because I didn't really think there was a case here! I just wanted to go to a fucking castle, okay? That what you wanna hear? Fine. _I just wanted to go to a fucking castle._ Happy now?"

" _What the hell, Dean?_ Are you _kidding_ me right now?"

"…No."

"Dean!"

"…What?"

"Go fuck yourself!" Sam yells, and from the sound of it he hangs up his phone by throwing it against a wall.

Dean lets his phone slip out on his hand and fall to the floor. Groaning, he rubs at his eyes, and when he finally opens them again Cas is standing above him, hand outstretched. Dean takes it, letting Cas pull him to his feet, but makes sure to drop the hold the moment he has his bearings. He can't even begin to deal with the shit storm that is now him and Cas when Sam is pissed at him.

Dean flops down on his stomach on the bed and pulls a pillow over his head, content to pass out for several decades if it means he can avoid all this. Screw consciousness. That's his new motto. But Cas, of course, _the fucker_ , does not agree, and apparently isn't going to let Dean fall asleep without first getting some answers.

"I thought you said there was a case here."

"Eavesdropping now? Don't angels have better things to do with their time?"

"Dean…"

"I lied."

"What?"

"I lied, okay? Happy?"

"Why would that make me happy?"

"Cassss…" Dean groans.

Cas doesn't speak for so long that Dean almost falls asleep. "Why did you lie?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

Dean huffs out through his nose, and turns his head just enough to catch a peek of a very shirtless Cas. His mouth goes dry. "Because I did. Doesn't matter. Just drop it."

Cas closes his eyes, exhales slowly, and Dean knows that look. The look of an angel very much regretting his promise to never snoop inside his best friend’s head, a promise that Dean is insanely grateful for, these days more than ever. With one more controlled breath that Cas doesn't even actually need, he shoves off his dress pants leaving him totally naked but for his thin, plain, white boxers. He throws the covers back and slides underneath and Dean's internal organs are back in his throat.

"Uh… Cas?" he manages to croak.

"Yes, Dean?" And could Cas sound any more annoyed?

"What are you doing?"

"Going to bed."

"But," Dean pushes the pillow off his head and turns on his side to face Cas. "You don't sleep."

"No. Not normally." Cas is staring at the ceiling, arms hugging his torso. Just when Dean thinks Cas isn't going to explain, his gruff voice pierces the silence. "Ever since we've arrived here, I've been unable to tap into the full strength of my grace."

"What, like something's blocking you?"

"More like something's draining me."

"And you didn't think to mention this before now?"

"It's not of import."

"What the fuck's that mean, Cas? 'It's not of import.' _This is very much of import!_ "

Cas shifts, searching for a more comfortable position. He doesn't answer. Normally this is the sort of thing Dean won't let stand, but right now he's too fucking tired.

Dean sighs, frustrated. "Just tell me… Are you gonna be okay? Do we need to leave?"

"No, it's not like that, Dean. At least not at this point. I will tell you if that changes, but for now the only side effect is fatigue. Inconvenient, yes, but not dangerous."

"Huh. That why you got those dark circles around your eyes? Thought I was imagining them at first."

Cas touches his face. "Yes. I suppose so. It's been so long since I've had to take care of my body without grace that I forgot what it feels like. I didn't realize I was fighting the need for sleep until a few hours ago."

"Ahh. Well. Get some sleep then. Night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean."

Dean shifts in the bed, sheets tangling and making his movements jerky and forced. He rolls first onto his left side and then onto his right, huffs as he turns and plops down on his back, shaking the bed. He can't get comfortable. His body is buzzing and tingling with something he can't quite explain. Fear? Nerves? ...Excitement? Another huff of breath as he pushes that thought to the darkest corner of his mind, shoves it in a vault, and throws away the damn key.

This should not be weird. _This isn't weird,_ Dean tells himself for what feels like the hundredth time today.

He's shared a bed with Sam probably more times in his life than he's slept alone. But Sam is Sam. The little snot-nosed boy who he fed and diapered and later on patched up after hunts.

 This is Cas. And Cas is, well… _Cas._ Motherfucking Angel of the Lord, former member of the God squad until he gave it all up to join Team Free Will. He's Dean's best friend and the only other person in the world besides Sam who'd he give his life for—fuck that. Who he'd give his _soul_ for. In many ways, he already has.

Angel. Best friend. And definitely _no_ t his brother.

Not that Dean thinks about that a lot, because he doesn't. No. Not at all. And he's definitely not thinking about it right now. He's not thinking about how he can feel Cas next to him even though they're not touching. He's not thinking about how warm the bed is or how all he he'd have to do is reach out, just a tiny little bit and he could touch Cas, brush his fingertips against that tan skin that he's definitely never stared at before. And then from there it would be nothing to wrap Cas in his arms, curl behind him and mold their bodies together, tuck Cas's head under his chin and breathe him in. But to do any of that, Dean would have had to think about it before, and he hasn't. Nope. Not ever.

He sighs loudly and this time it's Cas who moves, rolls onto his side and tucks a hand under his head, stares at Dean.

"Dean?" Cas whispers, and tentatively, Dean turns his head. Cas is right there, so close their noses brush and warm spicy breath tickles Dean's face.

He swallows thickly. "Yeah?"

"Is this alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"This. Me sleeping in the bed with you. Especially after what happened earlier."

Dean frowns. "What happened earlier?"

"Dean," Cas says, eyes flicking briefly to Dean's lips, and Dean is hit with a wave of heat.

"Oh. Uhh, no.Uhh—"

"Because I know that you are already unsettled by this whole thing—"

"Cas…"

"—and I have no desire to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are."

"Cas…"

"So, I could find somewhere else to sleep. Perhaps the floor, or the bathtub maybe—"

"Cas!" Dean silences him with two fingers to his lips. Cas's eyes bulge and Dean's heart skips a fucking beat. Goddammit. He withdraws his hand but his fingers burn with the touch of Cas. "You're not sleeping on the floor, man, or in the fucking bathtub."

"But—"

"Cas. I already told you. I'm fine. Everything's fine." Without thinking (and damn if Dean isn't making that a habit) he catches Cas's hand under the covers and squeezes. "Just—just get some sleep. Okay?"

Cas gapes and nods. Dean nods too, giving Cas's hand one more squeeze. He forgets to let go.


	4. Chapter 4

Consciousness tugs at Dean's body but he doesn't want to give in. He's peaceful and cozy, wrapped up in a comfortable cocoon of sheets and blankets and a nice warm body. Sighing, he snuggles back into the warmth, closes his eyes. The limbs holding him tighten and pull him closer. A nose nuzzles sleepily at the back of his neck as a hard, thick cock presses between his cheeks, hips rocking a few times against his ass. Dean's eyes fly open on a gasp.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ The warm body behind him is Cas. _How could he forget he's in bed with Cas?_

Cas's arms and legs are tangled around him like a damn octopus and no matter how he tries, Dean can't find a way to extract himself without waking Cas. To make matters worse, the more he tries to break free, the tighter Cas holds him and the more he moves.

Dean tries to pretend that he's not hard in his boxers too. That his stupid traitor dick isn't throbbing and leaking and thickening with each rock of Cas's hips, with each slide of Cas's cock against his ass. And then Dean tries to pretend that he's not rocking back against it, that he doesn't like the feel of that hot length along his cleft, that he's not seeking it out like a fucking slut. Because Dean _doesn't_ like it and he _doesn't_ do that and Cas _doesn't_ feel good, _so fucking good_ all wrapped around him. And Dean doesn't feel like he's about to explode when Cas sleepily mouth at the back of his neck. And Dean doesn't whimper. And he _definitely_ doesn't sigh Cas's name.

" _Cas…_ "

Cas mouths at the back of his neck again. "Yes, Dean?" he murmurs, and that does it. Dean's gonna have to move to another planet, because Cas is awake and he's never living this down.

There's a pounding on the door and Dean and Cas fly away from each other like two like ends of a magnet. Dean ends up tangled in the sheets and he crashes to the floor, taking out a lamp in the process.

"Goddammit," Dean groans rubbing his hip.

The doorknob jiggles. "Dean? Cas? You guys okay in there?"

"Goddammit," Dean says again as he pushes himself to his feet with a hiss.

"Yes, Sam. Dean and I are fine. Just a moment."

Dean limps to the door, grumbling, and when he pulls it open Sam looks way too cheery for Dean's liking. "Sam," Dean grunts as his brother pushes past him. Sam surveys the room, catches Cas not so discreetly pushing down on his tented boxers. Turning to Dean, Sam raises a brow. "I got a job in housekeeping so I came out on the first ferry and thought we could touch base before my shift. But if it's a bad time for you guys…"

Cas pushes down on his cock again, Sam grins, and Dean groans.

"No, Sam. We're good. Right, Cas? We're good."

Cas's jaw twitches but he nods once, succinct. "Yes, Dean. Of course."

Sam raises his brow again and Dean scowls, slipping into the first pair of jeans he can find and a soft, worn Henley. "So, what's this about a job?"

"Oh, yeah." Sam shakes his head and puts his game face back on. "Got a job with housekeeping through a temp agency. Figured I could scope out the staff, fish for some info from them while you guys get to know the other guests."

"Met our neighbors yesterday," Dean grunts, as he put on a fresh flannel. "Rachael and Max. It's their five year anniversary. They seemed nice. And normal."

"Normal?" Sam asks.

"I assume Dean is referring to the other couple we came into contact with. Anna and Becka."

Dean snorts. "Yep."

"Though I wouldn't say so much that they weren't normal as that they were unsuited for each other and made no attempt to hide it."

"You can say that again. Threw a screaming fit in the hall right after whatever this thing is took another victim."

Sam's eyes bulge. "There was another victim?"

"Yeah, two since I caught wind of the case. Amanda, she works here and was on her honeymoon with her husband, and then yesterday was a guy named Aaron. According to Rachael, he and his girlfriend just got engaged."

Sam hums. "So, whatever this thing is doesn't have a gender preference then."

"No," Cas says, now thankfully fully dressed in dark jeans and one of Dean's old band t-shirts. Okay, maybe not so thankfully. "It does not seem to matter."

"Well, that's just awesome." Sam slumps against the door and crosses his arms, frowning. "Now what?"

"Now," Dean says, clapping Sam on the shoulder and flashing him a blinding smile. "You get to work and I go find some pie. You coming, Cas?"

Cas gapes, held tilted slightly and brows furrowed.

"You okay, man?"

"Yes. Fine. I will join you for pie."

Dean smiles at him and if he didn't know any better he'd say Cas blushes. "That's the spirit! Have fun Sam!"

Sam flicks him off and Dean laughs, taking Cas's hand and holding it all the way down to the dining room.

The next several days pass mostly uneventfully. Sam finds a comfortable rhythm with his housekeeping job, gaining the trust of most of the staff, and Dean and Cas find a comfortable rhythm with each other. The closeness and little touches, sweet pecks on the cheek and lips, become natural and more frequent. Cas continues to feel more and more fatigue with each passing day, and every night he crawls into bed with Dean. They fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed but always wake up tangled together as if by necessity. They don't talk about it, and if sometimes they pretend to be asleep just to stay in bed together longer wrapped up with each other, they don't talk about that either.

Anna and Becka check out on the second day, much to the relief of both the staff and guests, their romantic intervention having clearly failed. Other than their overly dramatic departure, little else happens. Dean finds more dead plants around the resort, all of which mysteriously return to life when Charles is nearby. Dean is yet to catch him in the act but he holds firm on his belief. Charles is a witch, he has to be, but Dean can't quite put his finger on how everything ties together. All he knows is that it somehow does. It's too much of a coincidence to have multiple unrelated supernatural occurrences in once place.

On the fourth day the quiet breaks, both literally and figuratively, when Rachael becomes the next victim. It's the middle of the night when her screams wake the entire resort, drawing both staff and guests out into the hall to observe.

"Is this what happened with the last victim?" Sam whispers to Dean and Cas as they watch Rachael writhe and scream on the floor.

Dean winces. "Yeah. This is exactly what happened to that Aaron guy our first day here."

"I've never seen anything like this."

"Neither have I, Sam." Cas yawns and rubs his eyes, which, despite his new hobby of sleeping, only grow more tired by the day.

"You okay?" Dean frowns.

"Yes. Perfectly fine, but I think I need to sleep a few more hours. I'll see you both in the morning."

"What's going on with him?" Sam asks as they both watch Cas retreat back into the room. "Is he really okay?"

Dean sighs. "Honestly, I have no idea. He said something here is fucking with his grace but that he's fine and he'll tell me if he's not. But," Dean swallows, side-eyes Sam. "I'm starting to worry about him."

"Me too." Sam claps his shoulder and pushes him in the direction of the room. "Go on. Go check on him and get some sleep.

"Yeah. Okay." Dean nods and goes back to the room where he finds Cas curled under the covers, snoring softly.

He's worried, knows Cas is keeping something from him, but he also can't stop the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips of the way his heart speeds up. They can figure it out in the morning. Dean slides under the covers and pulls Cas into his arms. He's asleep within seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

"I think I've established a connection. A pattern of sorts," Cas says as he downs his second cup of coffee and pours a third. "All the victims are in a relationship. Part of of a couple."

"Uhh," Dean gapes. "This _is_ a couples resort."

"Yes. But there are other people at the resort. There's staff."

"Oh," Sam perks up, snaps his fingers. "He's right. Not everyone on the staff is in a relationship."

"But some of them are?"

"Well, yeah. Of course. And Amanda is. You guys said she was on her honeymoon?"

"Yep," Dean says, sipping his own coffee. "But I'm sure she's not the only staff member in a relationship."

Sam shakes his head.

"Right, so why her and not any other staff member in a relationship?"

"She was here with her husband on their honeymoon,” Cas says.

"Yeah? And?" Dean raises a brow.

"They were here together. They were both physically at the resort at the same time."

"That's true," Sam agrees.

Dean hums. "Okay, makes sense. But it still doesn't explain how this thing picks which couples to target. It hasn't targeted every couple who was at the resort together."

"Indeed." Cas downs his third cup of coffee and sighs. "Why target Amanda or Aaron or Rachael? Why not Anna or—"

Dean and Cas pause at the same time, jerking their heads toward each other. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Cas?"

"I wouldn't know You've expressed great displeasure at me getting inside of your head."

Cas's mouth twitches and Dean shoves his shoulder. "Fucking smart-ass."

"Yes, Dean. I do believe that I am thinking what you are thinking."

Sam groans and makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Well, apparently I've missed something. so would someone please explain?"

"It only attacks happy couples. The ones who are all lovey-dovey and all that shit. That's why it left Anna and Becka alone but went after everyone else." Dean shakes his head. "Feels like we're still missing something, though."

"Yes. It does."

"Well," Sam drums his fingers on the table. "Guess we'll just have to stick around a little longer and see what comes up."

Cas tilts his head. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Dean asks, eyebrows pinched. "Your grace getting worse?"

"No. It's just…" Cas shakes his head.

"It's just what, Cas? Not like we have to worry about this thing coming after us."

Cas crushes the Styrofoam cup in his hand. "No, of course not. Why would it? I'm going to take a shower."

Dean watches Cas retreat, open mouthed, and when he looks back at Sam he's giving him a self-satisfied grin. Dean points at him. "You. Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it." Dean sips his coffee and mumbles into his cup. "Not that there's anything to think."

"Of course not."

"Shut up."

"Whatever." Sam waits a beat before changing the subject. "You know, it really is nice here."

"It is."

"I can see why you picked this place for a break."

"Yeah."

"But Dean?"

Dean hums noncommittally.

"The next time you wanna take a damn vacation, just tell me. Don't fucking lie about it, man. That's how people get killed."

"I know, Sam. _Trust_ me, I know."

"Yeah. I know you do too." Sam pauses. "So, why'd you do it?"

Dean's next words are a whispered exhale. He's not sure why he even says it but he does, and it's too late to take back. "Because I was scared."

"What?"

"I was fucking scared, okay?" Dean exhales and leans back in his chair, raking both hands through his hair. "You said it yourself. We've been working non-stop since after the mark, but we were doing it before that too. We've been doing it for years… fuck. _Decades!_ Just working and working to avoid all the shit we got goin' on in our lives. Hell, to avoid our actual fucking lives! Because every time we slow down, Sam— _Every. Fucking. Time._ —" Dean accents each word with a pound on the table. "All hell breaks loose. Fucking _literally_ and I'm just… I'm not sure how much more I can take of it.Because what's next? What can _possibly_ be fucking worse than what's already happened? Can you think of something? Because I know that I can't… But dammit, if it's not gonna happen. Because it _always_ does. Something worse _always_ happens, so I just thought that maybe if we didn't slow down… Maybe—maybe if we just kept on grinding and fighting and bleeding that for once in our entire fucking lives we might get a break." Dean cradles his head in his hands, elbows on the table. "But I'm tired, Sam. Goddammit, I'm fucking tired… But I'm scared even more…"

When Dean finally finds the courage to look at Sam, his brother is smiling softly. "What are you afraid of?"

Dean takes a few deep breaths, looks at Sam, looks away, looks back again. "Of something happening to you. Or Cas. Of losing you guys again and being alone. Of losing Cas before I ever get the chance to—" Dean snaps his jaw shut

"The chance to what?" Sam hedges quietly.

"Nothin'"

"Dean—"

"Leave it, Sam. It doesn't matter."

Sighing wearily, Sam drags both hands down his face. " The only thing certain about life is that it doesn't last forever. We know that better than most."

Dean snorts. "That supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's supposed to make you think."

"About what?"

"About making the most of the time you have now because right now is the only thing that's certain."

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Hallmark."

"Dean…"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Don't waste my time." Dean stands up and stretches, sighing when his back pops. "Which is why I'm gonna get out of here and track down Charles. See if I can finally get something out of him. Bastard's hiding something, I just know he is."

He throws on his jacket and makes a break for the door.

"Dean?" Sam calls.

Dean pauses, hand on the door knob, and looks over his shoulder. "Thanks, Sam," he says and then he's off.

It doesn't take long for him to track down Charles, he just follows the path of dead plants that have been appearing more frequently with each day. What Dean doesn't expect is to, finally, catch Charles in the act. Though when he gets a good look at the man he's not surprised. Charles is gaunt and frail, gray skin hanging from his bones in a way that makes him look vaguely zombie-like. His eyes are hollow and sunken in. The rings around them are dark, black and blue with the slightest hint of yellow like an old bruise. He's barely managing to hold himself upright as he works, and as ready as Dean is to let him have it and get some answers, he finds himself staring, mesmerized.

Despite his weakened state, Charles commands the entire area, exudes that power and confidence that Dean remembers feeling on the very first day when he saw Charles at the desk. He holds his ground, feet slightly apart, hands at his sides with palms facing forward, eyes closed, as he murmurs something in a language Dean doesn’t understand, a language he's never even heard. The air buzzes and Dean's ears ring. A pressure builds inside of him greater and greater until at last, something lets loose. His breath is punched from his lungs and he coughs one, twice, before gasping on an inhale. In front of him, Charles goes stock still while what Dean can only describe as a wave of energy pulses up from the ground and into the man. Charles chants faster, his jaw clenched with strain, and then the wave flows up through him and out of his hands, engulfing the plant. It shimmers around the plant like a mirage, pulsing and rippling, and then, in the beat of a breath, it's gone. The bubble bursts and dissipates into the surrounding earth. Charles slumps forward, hacking. The plant is alive again. Vibrant and green, new flower buds decorating the branches.

_Holy fucking Shit._

Dean exhales and rakes his fingers through his hair. He's never seen anything like this before in all his years of hunting. The power alone… He shakes his head and turns on his heel because confronting Charles right now is looking like a bad fucking idea. If he can do that looking like the damn grim reaper then who the hell knows what else he might be capable of. Fuck that shit. Dean's not going to wait around and find out.

"Mr. Smith?"

Dean considers running. That would be the logical thing, though considering the foe, he's not sure. For all he knows Charles can vaporize him with a thought. And despite his hasty retreat, Dean's never been one to run away from a fight when confronted not matter how poor the outcome looks. Sam and Cas are going to kill him. Well, assuming he makes it out of this confrontation alive. Although knowing the two of them and the way their lives tend to go, Dean's pretty sure he'll be back before they have time to calm down and they'll just kill him again. He sighs and sets his shoulders. If he's going down, he might as well go down swinging.

"I told you I know what you are," Dean says as he turns to face Charles. To his surprise the man looks more like a puppy caught eating shoes than an all powerful supernatural creature ready for a fight. "You're a witch. And a pretty fucking powerful one from what I can tell."

Charles's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "What?"

"You prefer warlock? Fine. Same difference. It doesn't change anything."

Charles shake his head. "No, Mr. Smith. I believe there's been a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Dean throws his head back and laughs, confidence growing. "No, I think I understand perfectly. I saw what you did with that plant." He points. "All those plants. That was you right? Even that little flower the first day."

Charles hangs his head. Nods once.

"Then what's the issue? Other than you being a witch?"

"I am _not,_ " Charles spits out through clenched jaw, "a witch."

"Whoa, whoa. Okay, man. No need to get all crazy about it." Taking a step back, Dean holds up his hands, thrown by the sudden switch from shame to fury.

"I'm not a witch," Charles says again more calmly, and goddammit. Something about the way he says it gives Dean pause. He sighs.

"Fine. I'll bite. If you're not a witch, what are you?"

"I suppose there's not really a name for what I am. As far as I know, I'm the only one in existence."

"Great, a fucking unicorn," Dean mumbles.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just… you got one minute. Explain."

"My mother was human and my father… Well, my mother never named exactly what he was--I’m not sure she even knew--only that he had the ability to tap into the energies of the earth, to change them and balance them. I inherited some of those powers. Supposedly they originate from Feng Shui and the Four Celestial Animals.  "

"So, what then? You tap into other people's energy and drive them mad so you can… live longer or something?"

"No." Charles shakes his head frantically. "No, you have it all wrong. It's not me. I'm not hurting anyone. I'm _protecting_ them. I'm—I'm protecting _you!_ "

Dean snorts. "Well, you're doing a bang up job of it!"

"If it wasn't for me then the victims would have died! All of them. Perhaps you and definitely your boyfriend."

Something in Dean snaps at the mention of Cas dying. He lunges forward, grabbing Charles by his shirt collar and then spins him, pinning him against the nearest flat surface which happens to be a tree. "What the hell do you mean he'd be dead? What did you do to him? Is that what's wrong with him? Why he's being drained and he's tired and—"

"No. No! That was not me, Mr. Smith. I swear!"

"If it's not you hurting people, then what the fuck is it?"

"It's…" Charles gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's my wife. Louise."

"Your wife," Dean deadpans.

"Yes. Well, not her exactly. Rather her—her soul… What's left of it anyway."

Dean stops, letting go of Charles. "Wait. Louise… as in Louise _Boldt?_ The woman this castle was built for?"

Charles nods. "The very one."

"So, that would make you…"

"Yes. That would make me George Boldt." Once again the man hangs his head. "George Charles Boldt."

"What the fuck man? What the actual fuck? You gotta—you gotta start back at the beginning and this time I'm giving you," Dean looks at his watch. "Three fucking minutes to explain why I shouldn't gank your ass."

Charles (George?) nods. "When Louise fell ill, I was beside myself. I couldn't bear even the thought of losing her. So, when it became clear that she wasn't going to recover…"

"What did you do?"

A pause. "I bound her soul to the earth."

"You _what?_ "

"You have to understand, she was my life— _is_ my life—and I couldn't let her go."

"Now you listen to me," Dean says, jabbing a finger at Charles's chest. "I don't have to understand a Goddamn thing!"

Drawing upon some of his reserves, Charles straightens and gets right in Dean's face. "You, of all people, should understand."

"What?"

"The things you have done for those you love. The consequences." Charles takes a breath, looks away, and when he returns his gaze to Dean there is fury in his eyes. "You have no right to shame me."

"How—" Dean splutters, "How—"

"Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred. The earth knows all things that have ever been."

Dean's jaw clenches, twitching at the hinge. Charles has him by the balls. Dean would, and has, sacrificed everything for Sam and Cas. "What is she doing to them and how do we stop her?"

Charles looks away, once again seeming small and shameful. "She is searching for a way to return to me."

"And what's that have to do with—" Dean stops, jaw hanging open.. "She's searching for a vessel, isn't she?"

Charles nods. "Just as a soul is not meant to be bound to the earth, it _is_ meant to be bound with a corporeal body while on this plane."

"What the fuck…"

"I was not thinking clearly when I bound her. I didn't consider what I would do afterwards. Or what this would do to her. A human soul is not meant to be bound to the earth in this way. It disrupts the balance of the earth's energy and after I bound her I was unable to leave this place. For 75 years I've had to constantly balance the energies to protect this place and the people who come here." Charles's eyes water. "As far as Louise, over time, such an unnatural bond…"

"What?"

"It taints the soul, twists it. There is little of Louise left anymore."

"So, what? She's just going on instinct now? Snatching up any vessel she can get her hands on?"

"Yes, it is mostly instinct but she will not take just any vessel."

"Oh, yeah," Dean says, frowning. "We did figure out that much. That she's searching for couples who are in love… But _why?_ "

"She's hoping they will understand." Charles's voice is barely a whisper. "That they will sympathize with her desire to return to me. That they will let her take them."

"But that's…"

"Insane? Yes. Louise— _my_ Louise as I knew her—would never do this. But as I said, time has twisted her. She is no longer capable of rational thought."

"Goddammit. Well, there has to be something you can do! Why haven't you stopped her?"

"Ask yourself the same question the next time your brother or your boyfriend is in danger."

Dean's lips twist. "Touche."

"But I think…" Charles swallows around a break in his voice. "But I think I am ready now. I think it's finally the time."

"Wait a minute," Dean says, remembering. "What did you mean about Cas dying? About how he'd be dead if it weren't for you?"

"Oh, yes." Charles nods. "Louise was not the only one who sensed the strength of your bond. I could feel it the moment you two entered the hotel." Charles smiles to himself and for just a moment Dean is back to a few days ago when they entered the lobby, the way the air felt, the pulse between him and Cas, the feeling of being watched. "And she finds your Castiel incredibly suitable. Her pursuit has drained him and it's only by my interference, just as I interfered with you and the others, that he has not been drained completely."

Dean's body is vibrating, his fists clench with the need to hit and fight and protect, but what happens instead is, "Yeah, well, jokes on you, Skeletor. Me and Cas aren't a couple. And I don't even like dudes."

Charles smiles, soft, and Dean has the sneaking suspicious that he's the punchline of a joke. "Sometimes the soul knows things that the mind does not."

"Uhhh… wha—what now?"

"I read energy, Mr. Smith… Or should I say Winchester?" He lifts a brow. "I know all things. And if you allow yourself, I think you know what I'm speaking of as well…"

Dean scowls and rolls his eyes because yeah, he knows. Of course, he fucking knows. Dean's a big fat liar and the only person he's fooling is himself, and not that well even. Although, Cas isn't actually a dude but that's more of a technicality than anything. Cas is Cas. His wavelengths of celestial intent and his vessel and all. It's a package deal and Cas wouldn't be Cas any other way. Fucking Charles making him think and shit. Which reminds him…

"Wait... Winchester?"

"Yes," Charles nods.

"So, you know who we are and what we do? You've know all this time and you still..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because as I said, it's time. I know Louise must be freed but I fear I will not go through with it if left to my own devices."

Dean nods, understanding. "And that means that you know what Cas is too, then?"

"Yes. It is why he's been so affected by Louise and the energy shifts. It's also part of why she wants him. His vessel is strong."

"And what's—what's the other part?" Dean swallows down a lump in his throat.

"I think you know the answer to this one too." Charles pauses, softly smiling to himself again. "The strength of his feelings for you. It is… profound."

Dean gapes, mouth hanging open like a damn fish. "But—"

"Oh, thank, God, Dean! I've been looking for you everywhere. You've gotta come quick!"

Sam's got Dean by the arm and is dragging him back into the hotel before Dean can blink. " _What the fuck, Sam?_ What's going on?"

"It's Cas."

"What about Cas?" Dean asks even though he's got the sinking feeling he already knows exactly what's happened.

"It's got him. The…" Sam searches for words unsuccessfully. "The _thing_. It's got Cas!"

"Louise has Cas?" Dean yells, nearly pulling Sam's arm out of socket when he whips around to face Charles. " _Louise has Cas?_ I thought you said you were protecting him!"

"Who the fuck is Louise?" Sam asks.

"His wife."

"My wife."

"Well, her twisted fucking soul, anyway."

"What the—" Sam doesn't stop his trek but shakes his head, confused. "What the hell is going on?"

Dean exhales. "Short version?"

"Preferably."

"He can control and balance energy, he bound his dead wife's soul to the earth because he didn't want to lose her, now she's corrupted and looking for couples who’re in love and might be sympathetic and give her their fucking body so she can reunite with him." Dean pauses. "Oh. And he's actually George Boldt."

"Wait... So, why did she attack Cas?"

Dean groans. " _That's_ your takeaway?"

"Well, yeah. It's the only part I don't understand."

"You realize how screwed up our lives are that that even makes sense?"

Sam laughs wearily. "So?"

"So... what?"

"Why'd she go after Cas? You said she goes after couples in love, so why would she—" Sam stops in his tracks, rounds on Dean. "Dude."

"What?"

Sam gives an exaggerated eye roll. " _Dude._ "

Dean's crosses his arms and looks away. A flush rises on his chest and spreads up to his neck, his face. His cheeks burn. Dean doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to.

"Dude," Sam says again and Dean groans.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Sam just keeps on grinning like a fucking loon. "So, that means you and Cas _finally_ —"

"Not the fucking time, Samantha!" Dean shoves past Sam and does not stomp down the hall. When he makes it to the elevator he waves his hand, gestures for Sam and Charles to follow. "Well, come on! We don't have all day!"

The door to their room is closed and Dean pushes it open with shaking hands. Inside, Cas is supine on the floor, clad only in a towel, fresh from the shower. Dean rushes to his side and sinks to the floor. He reaches for Cas but stops, hands hovering  over him, unsure what to do.

Cas's body is taut as a bowstring. His back arches off the ground, face twisted in pain. When Dean finally chances it, lowers his hands and touches him, Cas gasps and pulls away. His eyes fly open, darting around frantically as he gulps in air.

"Cas?" Dean asks, tentatively. "Can—can you hear me?"

Can moans, eyes temporarily rolling back in his head, before they focus again, clear, and finally settle at a point somewhere over Dean's shoulder. Dean turns his head and follows Cas's line of sight.

"George?" And it's Cas's voice, it's his mouth moving, but it's not Cas. Not anymore.

Charles collapses next to Cas, swallows several times. His throat clicks. "Louise?"

"Yes. Oh, God. George. It's—ahh! Louise, it's okay. I told you it's—Ahh! George, it's me. It's Louise. It's—ahh!"

Cas throws his head back, muscles locking up again, his nails clawing at the carpet until they tear and bleed.

"Cas… _Cas!_ " Dean desperately looks between Cas and Charles. "What's going on? What's happening to him? How is Louise getting through? That hasn't happened before. That—that—what's happening?"

Charles's jaw clenches. He looks away.

"Charles! What's happening to him?"

"I seems as if Castiel has…"

"As if Cas has _what?_ "

"Accepted Louise."

"Accepted?"

Charles nods, curtly. "He has allowed her to take over."

"Oh, _hell_ no."

"It's not permanent, not unless Castiel chooses for it to be."

"Damn right, it's not gonna be permanent. I don't care what the fuck Cas has to say about it. Or Louise. Speaking of which," Dean points at Charles. " _Get your fucking wife out of him!_ "

"I can't."

"What the fuck you mean 'you can't?'"

Charles exhales slowly. "I mean _I_ can't. Now that they are connected only Louise and Castiel can undo it."

Dean punches the floor. "Goddammit, Cas! Damn angel's got too much fucking heart…" Shaking his head, Dean takes several fortifying breaths. "No. No, this is _not_ how this ends."

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asks taking a tentative step towards them.

"Cas? Can you hear me, man?" When neither Cas nor Louise answer, Dean leans in closer to his writhing friend. "Listen, Cas. You gotta listen to me. You can't let her do this. She already had her life, okay? She already got to live and love and feel and… _Goddammit!_ I know it all ended before she was ready for it and it's not fucking fair, but she already had her chance. _She already had her chance, okay?_ They both did." Swallowing thickly, Dean lifts his hands to Cas's face. They shake. He takes a breath to steady himself before palming Cas's cheeks, thumbs swiping gently over the cheekbones. "But we haven't. We haven't had our chance yet, Cas..." Something like recognition flickers in Cas's eyes but then it's gone. " _Goddammit, Cas!_ Don't do this. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. _Cas… I need you._ "

Cas gasps and his eyes fly open, immediately locking with Dean's. "...Dean?"

"Cas? Oh, my god, Cas! Is that you? Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Dean, yes. I can—ahh!—I can hear you. But—ahh!"

"Can, what's wrong?"

"It's Louise." Dean looks up to find Charles staring at Cas, face twisted in pain. "She doesn't want to leave. Not now that we've spoken…"

"Well, make her!"

"I told you." Charles shakes his head. "I can't do that."

"I said: _Make. Her._ "

Charles gulps, nods once. "Alright. I'll—alright." He blinks back tears. "Louise. Sweetheart?"

She doesn't answer but Cas writhes and screams in pain. Dean clenches his jaw.

"Louise," he tries again. "Sweetheart. You have to stop this. You have to let him go."

Cas screams again, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them Cas is once again gone.

"George," she says with Cas's voice. "No. Please."

"Sweetheart…"

"But I love you."

"I love you too... And that's why you must."

Several beats pass in silence. Then Cas's head nods and flies back forcefully. His mouth gapes on a silent scream as a shimmery, fog-like substance pours from between his lips. When at last it's gone, Cas slumps down again, limp on the floor. Behind him, Charles begins to chant in the same unrecognizable language from earlier, but Dean's only concern is Cas.

"Cas?" he says, fingers raking through the angel's sweat damp hair, scratching at his scalp. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

And Cas does, lashes fluttering several seconds before he finally holds his eyes open. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas." Dean can't hold back the grin or the tears in his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to Cas's forehead, mouths, "Welcome back," against the dewy skin, kisses him again. "Let's get you to bed. You need to rest up. Get your strength back."

The air around them catches fire and flashes once, bright, brilliant. "It is done. She's gone," Charles says, voice soft, a whisper, eyes wet with pain. "She's where she belongs."

 _Me too._ Dean thinks. _Me too._


	6. Epilogue

The next morning, when Dean reluctantly opens his eyes, Cas is already awake, watching Dean intently. He gives Cas a lopsided grin, looking away for a second when his cheeks heat up. When he gets up the courage to look back, Cas hasn't moved, bright blue eyes fixed on Dean, searching. The fear in his eyes looks all wrong on his face so Dean leans in and presses his lips to Cas's. It's closed mouthed and sweet and he's pretty sure he's got some awful morning breath, but it's just about the best kiss Dean's ever had. That is, until Cas pulls away, turns his head.

"Cas?" he asks, frowning. His heart thumps behind his ribs. "What's wrong?"

"Please don't, Dean."

Dean reels back as if slapped. "What?"

"Don't kiss me, Dean. Please. Not when— not unless—" He clears his throat and wipes his eyes. "I couldn't bear to have this only to…" He shakes his head, throwing off the covers. Dean catches his arm to stop him, pulls him back down onto the bed with a grunt. Cas whips his head around to face Dean. He lifts his chin, defiant, but his eyes are wet. " _What?_ "

Dean swallows. His throat constricts in pain. "Cas," he says softly, moving incrementally closer. "Why did you tell her yes?"

"What?" Cas asks. He tilts his head, brow furrowed. He clearly was not expecting this question.

"To Louise. Why did you tell her yes? Why did you agree to let her take you?"

"That is not of import."

"No. Not that again. Not this time." Dean reaches for him but Cas jerks away.

"Thank you for letting me rest here last night, but I am almost at full strength now. I no longer need to share your bed."

Dean exhales slowly. "You know better than anyone that I'm not one for words and talking, especially when it comes to… _feelings._ But hear me out, okay? Those things I said to you last night—"

"It's okay.There's no need to explain. I know you only said those things because you had to. Because it was the only way."

"Cas, no!" Dean shakes his head rapidly. "That's not true—"

Cas pushes up to a sitting position and throws his legs over the side of the bed, giving Dean his back. "You don't need to pretend for my sake. In fact, I'd prefer if you didn't. It will only make things more difficult."

"More difficult?"

Cas pauses and when he speaks again, his voice wavers. "For when you no longer need me. For when I have outlived my usefulness."

"Cas…" Dean gasps. It's a punch to the gut. "Is that—is that why you said yes?"

"I thought if I could not be with the person that I lo—" Cas cuts himself off, swallows a sob. "I wanted to be useful. I wanted to give her what I could not have."

"Cas…"

"Just let me be," he says as he stands up. Once again Dean catches his arm and forcefully pulls him back down onto the bed. Cas rounds on him, jaw clenched, fury in his eyes. "Dean," he says low, a warning. But Dean isn’t scared off.

"I'm not pretending."

"Dean. _Stop._ Please, I—"

Dean groans, throws his head back against his pillow several times, until his whines become frustrated laughter.

"This isn’t funny, Dean."

By way of answer, Dean takes Cas's hand and puts it on his half hard cock. Cas gasps. Dean raises a brow. "Does that feel like pretending to you?"

Cas's eyes bulge. " _Dean…_ "

"Oh my god, just _shut up_ already." Dean crashes their lips together, effectively silencing Cas. The kisses are tentative at first, dry closed mouth pecks that quickly evolve into more. Dean licks at Cas's lower lip, asking permission, but Cas pulls back, panting and red faced, lips already beginning to swell.

"But, Dean, I thought—"

Dean kisses him. Cas pulls back again.

"My vessel is male."

"I'm aware." Another kiss.

"But I thought—but you never—"

Grunting, Dean cradles Cas's face, kisses his lips, and rests their foreheads together. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"We're both a couple of dumb asses. Let's just leave it at that. Okay?"

Cas nods. Gulps. "Okay."

"Okay."

And then they're kissing again, lips sliding together soft and slow, tongues licking and prodding, tasting, seeking entry. They open for each other without hesitation. Hands roam everywhere, back, shoulder, ass, hair; clawing, pushing, pulling. Somehow in the chaos, their hips find each other, manage to set a rhythm, cocks sliding together hard and hot and heavy. They hiss and moan into the other's mouth as they seek more friction, more pressure, more pleasure, just _more._

"More," Cas whimpers into Dean's mouth and Dean chuckles darkly, sucks Cas's lower lip into his mouth and bites down, hard, sucks soothingly when Cas gasps, and then releases it with a pop.

"More what, Cas?" Dean asks as his lips leave a trail of wet kisses up Cas's jaw, then to his ear. His tongue traces the shell, wet and sloppy, and Cas shivers, clutches Dean's back, fingernails biting into bare skin. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Anything, angel. Just tell me."

Cas shivers again at the endearment and arches against Dean. "Touch me," he whimpers. Please, Dean. Please touch me."

"As you wish," he growls and then frees them both from their boxers, takes them both is his hand. " _Jesus,_ Cas," Dean groans as their cocks touch, twitching at the contact. "You're fucking _huge_. I can't get my hand around us both."

Pulling back, Cas frowns. "I apologize."

"Never apologize for this, because fuck. You're gonna feel so good inside of me." Dean shivers at the thought while Cas gasps, the slightest bit of fear in his eyes. Dean smiles. "Don't worry, angel, we'll work our way up to it. But I'm not gonna last that long right now and I could really use your help."

"How?"

"Put your hand around us too." Cas's hand shakes as he takes hold. They both hiss and roll their hips. "Ooo—kay. Now just follow my lead."

Dean gives them a few cursory strokes and Cas does the same. He thumbs at their slits, collecting the pre-come and smearing it everywhere; the spongy, purpling head, the sensitive spot underneath, their shafts. When they're both slicked up Dean begins to pump, slowly at first but then with greater intent. Dean squeezes them harder and Cas slots their fingers together so they can work as one. They kiss again, frantic this time, tongue and teeth and panting breaths as they match the rhythm of their hands and hips, match the speed and the urgency. Together they fuck into the tight tunnel of their joined hands. Harder, faster, their hips pistoning until they're breathless and panting, foreheads pressed together.

"I—I feel something, Dean," Cas gasps, and Dean laughs, squeezes them tighter.

"Me too, Cas. Me too, _believe_ me."

"What do I—what do I do?" His body is stiff and his voice pained.

"Just let it happen. Let go, angel. _Come._ Come for me, okay? Please."

"Yes, Dean." Cas's pants turn into a whine and then his body locks up and he's coming, cocking twitching and come spilling over their hands. "Anything for you, Dean," he whimpers and yep. Game over. Dean is coming too, calling out his angel's name. Something chilly, pleasant and powerful, curls through Dean's veins, punches him to the core. _Grace,_ Dean thinks belatedly as his vision whites out and he comes again, harder than he ever has in his entire life.

Dean not sure how, but he manages to work them both through it when Cas, breathless, drops his hand. He strokes them through the aftershocks until they both begin to whimper and the come grows tacky and cold. Only then does Dean let go, slumping back on the bed next to Cas. There's so much come between them, covering their hands and fingers, their boxers and bellies. Cas opens one eyes and tips his head, considering. And then, before Dean can stop him, or decide if he even wants to, Cas is sucking his own hand clean, and then Dean's hand, and then both of their stomachs.

"Fuck," Dean groans, head thrown back as his spent cock tries to fill again.

Cas hums. "That was… pleasant."

"Thanks, man," Dean snorts. "And that whole grace thing there at the end? A fucking plus!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed that."

"You can say that again," Dean chuckles, chancing a look at Cas. He's smiling and that makes Dean smile too, makes his bold. "Do you believe me now?"

"Yes, Dean."

"And you know that… you know that I—" He clears his throat, blushing. "You know."

"I know." Cas smiles and kisses him. "I do too."

"When we get back to the Bunker, you're moving into my room. You're gonna love the bed. Memory foam, man. It _remembers_ us."

"But I don't need to sleep."

Dean kisses him, deep and slow, doesn't pull away until they're both gasping for oxygen. "Who said anything about sleeping?"  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've struggled with this story since day one. Give me a detailed plot and I'll fight to get out 100 words; tell me a character is sad and I'll write you a 60k word novel. Point is, I am not a plot based writer, so I knew it would be a challenge from the moment I signed up. But that's kinda the point, right? What I did not know when I signed up was that writing plot would be the least of my worries. The three months I worked on this story were arguably the most personally challenging months of my life. I can't even tell you the number of times I literally banged my head on my desk and yelled, "I give up! I can't do it!" to anyone and everyone who would listen. Thankfully my friends had more faith in me than I did (I'm looking at you Ash, Muse, Wendy, B, and M! <3).
> 
> They listened to my many, MANY rants of self-hatred and self-doubt. They reminded that I could do it, why I wanted to do it, and more importantly, why I NEEDED to do it. Without realizing it, this story had become the embodiment of everything that happened to me and everything I was feeling the last three months. Finishing it would be symbolic, a tangible thing I could look at say, "I made it. I did it. You did not beat me." So, I kept writing even when I hated myself and every word I typed. I ranted to my friends. They (probably while rolling their eyes) encouraged me. And three months to the day that my life unexpectedly changed, I typed the final word.
> 
> Now I can finally say it:
> 
> I made it. I did it. 
> 
> You did not beat me. 
> 
>  
> 
> ***
> 
> Boldt Castle and George and Louise Boldt are real, as are their backstories! You can find out more on the [Boldt Castle](http://www.boldtcastle.com/) website :)
> 
>   
>  (One additional piece from Horrorfemme that's not part of the masterpost!) 
> 
> ***
> 
> If you're interested in any of my writing, original or fanfic, you can find out more here: [LivMasters.com/Me](http://livmasters.com/me/)
> 
> If you want to chat, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/RipUpTheEnding) where I spend my free time obsessing over all the things I love.
> 
> Come say hi and join the madness <3
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://ripuptheending.com/).


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